Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on January 30, 2009, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
There are two visual processes I’ve loved in fantasy cinema since my youngest days of viewing it: stop-motion and 3-D. One has generally gotten more respect than the other over the years, and both had been in decline until recently in the technically advanced modern age of moviemaking, but Coraline represents a glorious marriage of the two, an eye-filling experience that also gets at some pretty creepy stuff.
Like Monster House, a CG feature that was exhibited with the extra dimension in some venues, Coraline can be seen as sort of a training film for budding horror fans. If you know a preteen who wants to get into scary movies, here’s a perfect place to start, with plenty of spooky moments that speak directly to childhood experience, couched in an unreality that puts them at a psychologically safe distance. At the same time, unlike so many kids’ films these days, Coraline doesn’t condescend to youthful viewers and also offers plenty for adults to enjoy, not the least of which is the remarkable craftsmanship that director Henry Selick has marshalled to bring Neil Gaiman’s book (which Selick adapted) to the screen.
He has also selected the perfect voice cast to bring the assorted animated characters to life. Dakota Fanning is just right as Coraline (“not Caroline!”) Jones, a spunky, inquisitive 11-year-old who has moved with her parents into an old rooming house in a remote part of Oregon. With her parents (Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman) distracted by work, Coraline goes exploring and encounters the other tenants, including Miss Spink (Jennifer Saunders) and Miss Forcible (Dawn French), former grande dames of the stage whose careers have faded even if their personalities haven’t, and Mr. Bobinsky (Ian McShane), who claims to be putting together a “mouse circus” and thus has stinky cheeses delivered to his apartment. She also begrudgingly makes the acquaintance of Wybie (Robert Bailey Jr.), a neighbor boy who forages for worms outside the house.
It’s all charmingly eccentric, but Coraline is still bored and seeks escape. She thinks she finds it when she discovers a floor-level door in one of her new rooms, and the passageway behind it opens up to a mirror image of her life—one that’s better in every way. Her Other Mother and Father are more caring and attentive, whipping up delicious meals and a fantastical garden respectively; Mr. Bobinsky actually does stage an elaborate rodent carnival; and Spink and Forcible put on a whimsical stage performance of their own, pulling a delighted Coraline into the act. There’s just one small, strange detail: This Other World’s inhabitants have buttons for eyes. Coraline at first overlooks this, since the realm offers such a pleasing alternative to her real life that she begins to consider relocating there permanently. Then, as heralded by the pronouncements of a mysterious talking cat (Keith David), the Other World begins to show its dark side…
Coraline takes its time building to the eerie things, though a marvelous title sequence does hint at the macabreness to come. And throughout, there’s plenty to engage anyone who loves cinema of the imagination, from the strikingly designed sets and characters to their lighting (by Pete Kozachik, the cinematography wizard behind Selick’s The Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach, as well as The Corpse Bride). The animation is remarkable, from the complex stage setpieces to the quirky little details and bits of business (like Coraline trying to stomp the bulge out of a carpet). Most impressive of all is the facial manipulation of the characters, particularly the young heroine, who may be the most expressive stop-motion character in film history. Everyone on screen has a distinctive personality that comes fully alive and draws you into Coraline’s off-kilter world.
As does the 3-D, which is, not surprisingly, even better matched to three-dimensional animation than it is to the digital kind. While there was a good amount of computer assistance involved in Coraline’s production, there’s a just slightly rougher quality to stop-motion that adds to its “personality,” and it’s enhanced by the crystal-clear depth of the images. There are the inevitable, and quite amusing, in-your-face moments, but mostly, Selick and his photographic team use the process to immerse the viewer in the wondrous and frightening environments they’ve created. Buffs will also appreciate little nods here and there to model animators of the past; there are even moments during the mouse circus with a whiff of Czech artisan Jan Svankmajer about them.
Coraline may not plunge as deep into its dark and disturbing undertones as some genre fans might wish, but it maintains a healthy fidelity to its literary source while establishing its own identity as a motion picture. It gives kids a heroine well worth rooting for and perils for her to face that’ll give them some good, safe scares, while keeping their parents captivated. And it once again makes the case that there’s more artistry and narrative discipline going on in the animation industry than one tends to see in live-action features these days.
